


mosaic broken hearts

by sunflowerx



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, POV Jughead Jones, Post-Season 4, Reconciliation, and so does jughead, but we like betty, not really - Freeform, she needs a hug, the veronica & jughead brotp we deserve, we don't like archie here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerx/pseuds/sunflowerx
Summary: It’s a strange feeling, he decides, being in this limbo, tip toeing the thin line between lovers and-He can’t even bring himself to finish that sentence.or,seven months, a lot of unresolved feelings and one final reconciliation.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge
Comments: 31
Kudos: 116





	mosaic broken hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I needed to get out of my system. Enjoy <3
> 
> Title from "State of Grace" by Taylor Swift

_I’m so sorry, Jug. You have to believe me-_

_I don’t know. I- I don’t..._

_Tell me how I can fix this, please._

_Of course not! I’m in love with you, Jug._

_I never meant to hurt you._

_I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry._

**_june_ **

He reaches out to the space beside him, frowning when all he feels is the cold soft cotton from his comforter.

When he started going to Stonewall Prep, he finally understood what people always say about going from sleeping next to someone to sleeping alone again. After a whole summer of sleeping next to Betty Cooper, his nights became hours spent writing and battling insomnia, fueled by endless cups of coffee. When he went back to Riverdale High, he didn’t think about it again, too distracted by the presence of Betty next to him. After all, this would only be a problem for college Jughead.

He could have never imagined he would spend his last weeks of highschool sleeping in ~~his girlfriend~~ ~~ex-girlfriend~~ Betty Cooper’s guest room. It all comes crashing back to him.

His eyes are still stinging, and if he were to look in the mirror, he knows he would find them bloodshot. He wonders how he ever went to sleep last night. They didn’t break up. Not really. In the end, he knows they will come back to what they always do when it comes to them: each other. But he can still hear her words when she told him the truth - that she kissed Archie, that she kissed her best friend’s boyfriend, that she kissed his best friend. That she _cheated_ on him.

He knows they will eventually go back to each other (they were never good at staying away), but this time he has no idea how.

  
  
  
  


She gives him space, and he doesn’t know whether to be grateful or mad. She keeps to herself though, locked up in ~~their~~ her bedroom.

In true Betty Cooper fashion, she still tries to help him during his last days of school, even though they both know he’s already graduating with the rest of the class. He almost forgets about what happened when, for a moment she laughs at something he said, looking at him with the same twinkle in her eyes as always, or when she reaches out for him.

He can see she forgets it too. And he can also see the moment it all comes back to her and she retreats her hands or averts her gaze from his.

It’s a strange feeling, he decides, being in this limbo, tip toeing the thin line between lovers and-

He can’t even bring himself to finish that sentence.

  
  
  
  


More and more people gather around the banks by Sweetwater River and his eyes linger on the fire at the center of it. It’s a nice evening, he thinks as he laughs along with Sweet Pea and Fangs.

It’s the annual farewell bonfire, thrown for the seniors of Riverdale High. He thinks about how, in his sophomore year, he didn’t even speak to half these people and how crazy it is to actually be having fun with them. But then he thinks about the fact that, back then, he also never thought he would be going to any social gathering by his own free will without Betty by his side. Things do change.

“I can't believe it's already over. And we survived, which is the craziest part,” Toni says, laughing as she lifts up her beer. 

“Well, I actually had a bet going that Jughead would be dead by the end of high school. I really thought for a moment that I won,” she says, wrapping her arms around Toni and the other girl laughs. 

“I’m honored Cheryl.” He gives her a tight smile, but, before he can turn away, she grabs his arm, her red nails almost digging into his jacket.

“Well you should be. But alas, I think you turned out pretty well for a hobo. And, despite what happened, you can come to us if you need anything,” she says, with a sincere smile, before dropping her hand.

“Thanks.” He nods and, before he even has a moment to process what happened, something he catches something, or rather someone, walking towards them.

He gulps. She is wearing a lilac dress, one that drove him crazy the first time she wore it, the only memory that remained from that day being the sight of it on her bedroom floor. He forces himself to look away and doesn’t acknowledge her arrival, instead taking a swig from his Coke, turning back to Fangs. None of them mention it either, but, no matter how much he tries to forget about it, he can't stop watching her. 

His eyes linger as she talks to Cheryl, both their smiles wide as they chat, and as even Veronica carefully makes her towards her, the three of them laughing mere five minutes later. He wishes he could be more like Veronica, he wishes he could talk to her, even if only for one night. 

No matter what happened, she would always fit in, and it’s like everyone simply forgot whatever happened during these last couple of weeks, and if it wasn’t for Sweet Pea and Toni, who stay faithfully by his side, he knows he would be the odd man out once again.

He almost catches her eye from time to time and he knows she wants to approach him. However, each time he knows she is about to make a move, he finds himself quickly looking away. 

He wants it too, to reach out, to talk to her, but the anger he feels bubbling within him as he thinks about her keeps him rooted to the spot. He keeps ignoring her presence and, eventually, notices her blinking back the tears in her eyes, but it’s too late and she’s already turning her back and walking away. 

He watches her go.

  
  
  
  


He enters the house quietly, taking off his shoes to not make any noise, and makes his way upstairs when, suddenly, the muffled sounds coming from one of the rooms catch his attention. It takes him a moment to realize it’s coming from Betty’s.

He can hear her quiet sobs and a part of him feels good, because she was the one who made a mistake and she should be the one crying. Not him. He shouldn't be the one waking up his eyes red and the bags under them darker and darker each day.

But the sentiment is quickly replaced by sadness, and he goes into his room, closing the door behind him before falling back on it, the tears already sliding down his cheeks.

* * *

  
  


**_july_ **

There is a weird feeling in his chest as they walk towards Archie’s house. Mary answers the door, immediately wrapping them both in a hug and Betty stays behind with their parents as he walks inside. He sees Archie sitting on the couch, nursing a beer, and tilts his head in acknowledgement, but doesn’t make another move. Veronica is also there, leaning against the wall, so he decides to prop himself next to her.

“I can’t wrap my mind around it, you know? How it’s been a year already.”

“Yeah, I wish he could be here. With us. I think we all needed him right now,” he says, looking back at her and catching the sad smile on her face. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“Not really. I don’t think I can,” she says and he nods in understanding. “How are things with you and-?”

“Weird. Ever since we were kids, we never had to walk on eggshells around each other and being there, in that house,-”

“I get it,” she stops him, placing a hand on his arm. It’s something they would’ve never done two months ago, but now he welcomes the comfort and forces a smile.

“I don’t want to lose her. I really don’t. But I just- I don’t know how I’m supposed to just see past this,” he sighs, shaking his head. “What about you two?”

“I have. She apologized. And sometimes I want to scream at her for what she did, but, then- I mean, look at her.” And he does. And it takes everything in him not to wrap his arms around her and take the sadness he sees in his eyes away. “After everything we’ve been through, it’s a miracle we’re all remotely normal.”

(It’s true. It’s terrible, but it’s true.)

  
  
  
  


They still spend some time together - it’s hard not to when they live in the same house, no matter how many times he goes to Pop’s or Sweetwater to avoid her. They just don’t talk to each other. They eat dinner together with their parents and sometimes they even read together on the couch, but they don’t curl up under the blankets as they used to.

He notices it takes a toll on her too.

So he is surprised when, one day, she comes home smiling. It feels like it’s been ages since he last saw her smile, and he can’t help himself when she comes into the kitchen and stands next to him preparing her lunch.

“What got you in such a good mood?”

Her eyes widen when she registers he is talking to her, but she shakes her head and turns around anyway.

“I just got back from V’s,” she says, and he watches as a smile spreads across her face, almost as if she can’t help herself. “We hung out today with Cheryl.”

“Oh, that’s good,” he says with a nod, but he still feels a tug of jealousy in his heart, at how Veronica can forgive her so easily. Why can’t he just bring himself to do the same? “Well, I’m glad.”

He is already turning away when he hears her voice, and she looks so small when he looks at her again, almost as if she could break at any second.

“Do you think someday we- I mean, do you think that you will ever be able to do what V did?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly and she nods.

  
  
  
  


The nights in the bunker are the worst. But during those times when he desperately needs to get away, this seems like the only option. The bed is uncomfortable, and it holds memories that make his heart hurt, but it’s away from everything, away from _her_ , and it gives him the solitude he craves, so he tries to look past that as he lays down on the bed.

Tonight, it’s especially bad.

He never thought of himself as one of those guys who can’t go a few months without sex. Before Betty, he really didn’t take much interest in it, and, while he knew it would take him some time to adjust, he never thought it would be -

So-

Damn-

 _Hard_.

(Yes, hard seems to be the right word for it.)

He doesn’t want to think about her, he doesn’t want to resort to their memories, but when he reaches for his pants, the only face that he can picture is hers, and, for a moment, he lets himself enjoy those memories, even if, in the end, they leave him with an empty heart and an ache doesn’t fully go away.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_august_ **

They finish loading the boxes on his truck and he turns around. Jellybean hugs him and Alice gives him a kiss on the cheek and makes her way inside again, alongside his sister, with a _good luck with everything_ whispered in his ear, leaving him alone with his dad. He can feel the tears on the corner of his eyes and shakes his head, wrapping his arms around FP.

“I’m really proud of you son,” he says, patting him lightly on the back.

“Thanks dad.”

“And who would’ve thought three yers ago that you would be going to Columbia and sharing an apartment with Veronica Lodge.”

He smiles at his dad, but his laughter dies in his throat as he catches the sight of a blonde ponytail behind them. His father notices it too.

“Well, I think I should leave you two to it, then.” He walks away, giving Jughead one last smile, before closing the door behind him.

“So, this is it.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “When do you have to go to Yale?” he asks, as if he didn't stare more than he should at the date circled in his calendar.

“Next week,” she says and takes a deep breath. “I know you need space. I get it. And maybe this will be good for you, you know? I just- I know you need to figure things out and I told myself I was not going to tell you how sorry I am about the way things went down again, but I am. But I’m also so proud of you Jug. You deserve this more than anyone I know, to get out of this town and-”

“You deserve it too,” he says, because, despite what happened, she really does and he knows it. She gives him a small smile, before continuing.

“Thanks Jug. And I will be here when you’re ready, okay? If you want to talk or if you- if you-” _if you really want to break up. If you want to end this._

“I know.”

He sees her opening and closing her mouth, almost like she’s unsure of whether she should say something more. And he knows what she wants to tell him. He knows what it’s like to have the words, those three words, caught in your throat by the fear of rejection. He has felt it during most of his life.

She chooses not to say anything, so he manages a small nod before turning back to his truck. No matter how much he misses hearing those words coming from her, a part of him is grateful she didn’t say anything - he’s not sure he could hear them anyway.

He gets inside the truck and closes the door behind him, catching the broken expression on her face in the rearview mirror. He starts the engine, driving away from their house, and she gets smaller and smaller, but she doesn’t move and he only stops seeing her when he turns right. He lets the tears fall and doesn’t bother on wiping them.

He sees the _You are now exiting Riverdale, the town with pep_ sign on the road and feels a painful tug in his chest - this is the one thing he has wished for most of his life, but he doesn’t feel accomplished like he thought he would. He just feels broken.

  
  
  
  


The apartment Veronica chose doesn’t surprise him in the least. It’s big and everything in it looks expensive, and, though it doesn’t look like an apartment for two college freshmen, he didn’t expect anything less from her. His room is big, with a king sized bed against one wall and a massive window on the other, and even though a part of him itches to make a pretensious speech to Veronica about the troubles the working class faces, he can’t really bring himself to as he watches her boss the moving crew around in awe (even if on a disturbing level she almost reminds him of Cheryl).

“You, get that box over there and you, get back up, we have other stuff to do,” she says, snapping her fingers and pointing to different rooms.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said they would be at our service,” he chuckles, but quickly shuts his mouth when she turns to him with a pointed look.

“Are you complaining? Or do you want to get your bags yourself?” She raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, thank you,” he says quietly to which she replies with a triumphant smile.

“Thought so.”

  
  
  
  


If he thought sleeping in the bunker away from Betty was bad, he could have never imagined how much worse sleeping in a different city would be. He tosses and turns for hours until he finally gives up. Somehow, knowing that this time she was completely out of reach left an uneasy feeling on his chest.

He pads across his room and picks one of the few boxes he managed to open earlier, taking out his typewriter and his manuscript. He hasn’t looked at it in awhile now, but there is a sudden rush of _something_ he feels when he turns over the pages and the moment his fingers hit the keys, he can’t seem to stop.

  
  
  


New York is drastically different from Riverdale. He already knew that, but there it’s strange to finally see something with your own eyes that you only ever saw in movies or heard about. It’s loud, and the people yell and the tires screech on the concrete, but somehow he doesn’t mind the noise. There are people everywhere, yet, somehow it is also less stifling. People don’t whisper or stare when he walks and he savours this first taste of freedom.

He finds a little bookstore near his apartment and a diner, and even though it doesn't resemble Pop’s in the slightest, at least it will keep him well fed.

It isn’t home yet, but he feels comforted at the possibility that maybe one day it might become.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_september_ **

It doesn’t take him long to adjust. It’s still a little weird to be living with Veronica of all people, but she is neat and keeps everything organized and doesn’t bother him as much as he thought she would. They have a similar taste in movies, which helps, he thinks, as he sets the popcorn on the coffee table.

“So, what are we watching tonight?”

“Well, since you have been bugging me to watch Tarantino, I got us _Once Upon a Time in Hollywood_ ,” she says, as she wraps a blanket around herself.

“You picked that one because of DiCaprio, didn’t you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes and she giggles.

“And Brad Pitt! I mean, can you blame me?”

The movie starts, and he picks up his phone for what feels like the hundredth time that day, looking at the date in his calendar and sighing heavily, before dropping it again on the couch.

“You know, Betty used to make a joke about how I looked like a young DiCaprio,” he says, ten minutes into the movie. He can feel Veronica’s eyes on him, but doesn’t let his gaze stray from the TV.

“Well, now that’s a stretch,” she says, a failed attempt to lighten the mood that falls flat, as he tries to stop the tears from falling, letting them sting his eyes instead.

“It would be our three-year anniversary today,” he says, catching Veronica’s sigh. “And, you want to know what the weird part is? If you had told me three months into our relationship that this would happen, I would be the first person to say that I called it. I just- I never thought that we would reach this point - I mean, three years - let alone that what I spent the first three months of our relationship fearing would happen after almost three years together.” He is not watching the movie anymore, but his eyes are still focused on the screen as he wipes them.

It’s not the first time they have talked about this. He knows Betty and her are on speaking terms and even hang out sometimes when they’re both in Riverdale for the weekend. It still feels weird to talk about this with Veronica, to be so open and vulnerable with someone who is not Betty, but she understands him and listens without judgement and he couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like her these last few weeks.

But this time, it’s different.

“Jug,” she tries, reaching out to him, but he grabs her hand to stop her. Suddenly, his throat tightens as he thinks about the day in his calendar and, no matter how much he wants to let it all out, he doesn’t think he can talk anymore. Not today. Not right now.

“Don’t. Let’s just watch the movie.”

  
  
  
  


His classes are better than he expected. The teachers are good and his classmates too, even if some of them annoy him deeply, but he finds that it doesn’t bother him as much as it used to. Sometimes he still brings his hands to his head, the urge of tugging on his beanie still present, but then he thinks about the last he’s seen of it, thrown across Betty’s floor. It happens less and less, and some days he doesn’t need it at all, and decides to take it as a good sign.

Veronica encourages him to get out of his shell too and he does - he isn’t afraid of speaking up in class or going up to different people and it feels good.

And then, before he knows it, him and Veronica are the unofficial weekly dinner party hosts. It’s the last week of september, and just like every week, their house fills in with a couple of kids from both their classes.

A guy from Barnard that he is pretty sure Veronica is into, even though he reminds him way too much of every guy he desperately tried to avoid in high school (but that seems to be the type that Veronica goes for, so what can he say?), suddenly grabs his arm so he can whisper in his ear.

“Hey, are you and Veronica…” The guy ( _Adam?_ , he is pretty sure) doesn’t finish the sentence and Jughead gives him a confused look.

“Are we what?”

“You know, dating, hooking up, I don’t know,” he says gesturing wildly. He’s clearly on his way to being drunk and Jughead is about to interrupt him when he speaks again. “‘Cause, bro, I don’t want to get in the middle, so, just tell me.”

“No, no, _no_. Ew, definitely not.”

“Hey, okay, calm down man. What, been there done that?”

“Again, definitely not,” he shudders and Adam furrows his eyebrows. He understands what he must be thinking. Objectively, Veronica is one of the most attractive girls he has ever come across, but the thought of anything happening between them makes his skin crawl. The guy is still looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain. “Me and Veronica are just a big no, believe me. Besides, she used to date my best friend and- And I used to date her best friend, so...” he trails off, the whole interaction making him feel uncomfortable, so he takes a swig from his beer. It feels strange to put what he and Betty had in such simple terms, and, even if it’s the truth, the words leave a weird taste as they tumble from his mouth.

“So, she is single?” Jughead nods. “Okay, cool man. But, hey, if you’re single now too, let me just tell you that I’m pretty sure she has been trying to get you for _weeks_ ,” he says pointing to a girl from his sitting at the end of the couch, Nancy.

She is nice and yes, she is pretty. She’s brunette, with big curly hair, and her eyes are deep brown and sharp. She is completely different from Betty, just like Toni, and he can see the appeal, but before he can say anything, Adam is already typing something on his phone.

“Look, I texted you her number. You’re welcome,” he says, patting him on the back and making his way towards Veronica. He unlocks his phone and is left alone, staring at Nancy’s number.

  
  
  
  


The night goes by quickly, but now, after what Adam said, he can’t seem to ignore the looks Nancy keeps giving him. He is not used to having someone staring at him so openly other than Betty, but it’s also nice, and, in a way, it also makes him feel validated and assured. That if he wants to move on, he can. That people don’t see him as the same scrawny kid they saw back in high school. He is lying in bed now, looking at her number, but he locks his phone again and drops it on his bedside table before he can do anything.

  
  
  
  


Three days later, Nancy asks him out. He tells her he has a girlfriend.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_october_ **

“Betty!” He swallows the last of beer left in his cup, setting it down on the table next to him. Everything feels hazy and Betty’s voice feels like a distant memory as she talks, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey, Jug. Happy birthday.”

“It’s my birthday. Why aren’t you here? Veronica threw me a party and I’ve looked everywhere but you aren’t here.”

“I’m at Yale,” she says, and takes a deep breath.

“Oh, right.

“Have you- have you been drinking, Jug?”

“ _Maybe,_ ” he replies with a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, even though she can’t see. “Anyway, remember what you gave me on my last birthday? We went to the bunker and baby, it was _so_ good. I miss it. You know, I think a girl here tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away. She isn’t my Betty so she doesn’t get to kiss me, you know?”

She doesn’t reply, and he thinks he hears her breathing getting heavier. “Oh.” There's a tinge of sadness in her tone, a catch in her voice, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it, snapping out of his daze when he hears Veronica.

“Veronica is calling for me, I gotta go. Bye!”

  
  
  
  


He wakes up with a pounding headache. There is water and two aspirins on his bedside table, along with a note from Veronica.

_Welcome to your first hangover. Don’t worry, I saved videos for posterity._

He can smell the beer in his breath and suddenly has a strange sense of deja vu, immediately grabbing the bucket beside his bed and throwing up.

As he props himself against the headboard, he notices a small present by the foot of his bed. It’s a leather bound journal, with his initials on the cover. It’s simple, it’s black, and it’s beautiful. There is a note inside, but he doesn’t have to open it to know who it’s from.

_I know I gave you a typewriter a few years ago, but I also know you like the feeling of holding a pen in your hand - look inside._

_Betty._

Inside, there’s a bunch of scraps of paper glued on the pages and he recognizes his handwriting on them. Half of the journal is filled with his notes and the other half is blank. It’s the little notes he wrote on paper whenever he didn’t have his computer or typewriter with him. She kept them. He smiles as he sets it on his bedside table.

He grabs his phone to call her and thank her when, suddenly, last night comes back to him in broken pieces. He vaguely remembers his phone call with Betty and his stomach churns and he feels like he’s going to be sick again.

He texts her instead, unsure if he has the guts to face her (he doesn’t), and feels grateful when she replies and doesn’t mention the night before.

  
  
  
  


It’s the first time he comes back. He had a couple of days off school, so he decided to take a trip down to Riverdale and have a birthday dinner with his family (to which he grimaced even when they insisted that _of course it’s not a birthday dinner_ ). He just never really thought about how it would actually feel to be back.

They walk on eggshells around him, constantly trying to change the subject whenever it strays from college or New York.

He wants to get out of the house, he desperately needs to, and even if there is a tug in his heart each time he thinks about Pop’s, he thinks it might be the safest option if it saves him from snapping at his family.

He sits far away from their booth and the moment he takes a bite from his burger he thinks yes, the diner near campus definitely doesn’t beat this. He looks at their booth for the umpeeth time, and still has to fight the urge to turn his head everytime the bell chimes, even though he knows she is back in New Haven, but it seems like a small price to pay to get out of his house.

When he goes back to the house, he opens the fridge (even though he left Pop’s less than twenty minutes ago), when the beer bottles catch his eye. His dad almost never drinks now, and he knows Alice has become more and more comfortable at keeping alcohol in the house.

There is an urge to take one out when he thinks about his party - a _want_ -, to feel weightless again and simply _forget_ , but then the sight of those same bottles scattered around the floor of his trailer makes him close the fridge again, shuddering.

He walks upstairs and towards his room, passing through the closed door of her room that he doesn’t have the guts to open, picking the black leather journal on his backpack when he sits on the bed.

He thinks about the bottles again, but shakes his head and starts writing instead.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_november_ **

_Betty,_

_My therapist told me I should write you a letter. Yes, I am seeing a therapist now. After everything that happened the last three years, we’re basically every psychiatrist’s dream. She told me I should write everything I wanted to say to you, and that sending it would be my decision. I’ve decided I’m not going to._

_New York is amazing. You probably know this already, but coming here made me realize there is so much more to the world than Riverdale. Maybe one day you’ll see it for yourself._

_My dad says I should talk to you. A few months ago, he wouldn’t insist, I think he was afraid I was about to snap. I don’t blame him. But now he tells me about you sometimes - and I let him. He told me you were going home for Thanksgiving. I’m not. I don’t think I’m ready to see you again. And I know we still keep in touch, more or less, but the idea of seeing you again in person terrifies me sometimes._

_I know you wanted to ask about what happened the night of my birthday. I got drunk and, god Betty, for the first time in the last few months I was so happy. For a moment I swear I almost saw why my dad did it._

_But when I woke up I could still smell the alcohol in my breath and I never felt so sick in my entire life. I don’t want to turn into my dad. I won’t. And I don’t want one day for you to do for me what I did for my dad, if we ever reach that day._

_I know you love me. I do. Despite what you did that night, I can't ignore the last fifteen years I've known you for. But sometimes I still wanna scream at you for throwing everything away, for not caring about how much it would hurt me._

_I know we all make mistakes, but I can't help but think how many times you were kissing me and wishing it was Archie. How many times you were fucking me on our bed and seeing Archie instead. And the thought makes me so mad, Betty. It feels like every memory I had of us is somehow tainted, and I hate it so much._

_I still hope one day I can forgive you. Because I didn't just lose my girlfriend and Archie that night, I lost the woman that I love and I lost my brother. I lost my two best friends._

_Jug_

  
  
  
  


He drops the pen on his bed and buries his face in his hands.

  
  
  
  


Writing that letter shakes him in a way he doesn’t expect. He feels like an open wound again, as if doing it made him relive something he was trying so hard to bury and he mops around the house during the weekend. He’s snappier and more sarcastic than usual, and a part of him feels bad about taking it out on Veronica, but he can’t bring himself to really mind.

Of course, eventually, everything blows up.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is going on with you?” she asks, catching the cigarette between his fingers and stubbing it on the ashtray. It’s an habit he picked up on the last few months, one he is not proud of, but it’s better than drinking, he supposes.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh no, you are not giving me that bullshit. Even Adam is worried, so either you snap out of it or you tell me,” she demands, placing her hands on her hips.

“It’s nothing, okay?” he says, waving her off.

“Cut the bullshit, Forsythe.”

“ _Fine_ . You want to know what’s wrong? Fucking everything. You know, my dad just invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them, and guess who is gonna be there. It’s like I can never truly get away and I _need_ space, I need space to think and -”

“Jug...”

“No! Stop! Maybe you forgave her, but I-” He runs a hand over his face, before looking at her straight in the eye. “I’ve known Betty all my life, I had a crush on Betty all my life, how could I not. And I watched her as she pined and pined for Archie for _sixteen_ years. You have known Archie for _three_ years and dated him on and off. I’ve been on a fucking relationship for three whole years, and I’ve known for over a decade. So, no you don’t get it,” he yells. It feels good to let it all out, but he can see the flicker of something ( _sadness?_ ) in her eyes, and regret instantly washes over him.

“Fine, maybe I don’t. But at least, Betty constantly made, and is still making, an effort to fix what happened. She was the one that told us and that ended whatever she had with Archie. But him? He- He was willing to have an affair, or whatever you want to call it, he was willing to continue to lie to me, to continue _cheating_ on me. He wrote her a song, for fuck’s sake. And the moment it all blew up, he was gone, just like that.” She snaps her fingers, glaring at him. “But she is making an effort. And I forgave her, because I saw it. And if you didn’t have your head so far up your ass you would see it too.”

She walks out the door, slamming it behind her and he stands there rooted to the spot.

  
  
  
  


He gives Veronica the letter the next day and when she finishes, he can see her blinking back the tears as she wraps her arms around him. He buries his face in her shoulder, crying quietly at first, and, before he knows it, they are both sitting on the floor and she lets him rest his head on her lap, combing her fingers through his hair.

It’s nice to have a friend.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_december_ **

He watches as the snow falls, and wraps his hands tighter around the mug. He is still trying to prepare himself for the next few days - he knows she will probably be here soon - and his heart thumps faster and faster at the prospect of seeing her again. 

“So, how are things with you two?” his dad finally asks, as if he can sense what he’s thinking. He knows he has been dying to do it ever since Jughead stepped foot on the front door, but managed to stay quiet until they were both outside, sitting on the porch swing.

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you give her a second chance?”

“It’s not that simple. It's complicated.” He knows he is being evasive, but he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Because it's Christmas, and he is still trying to prepare himself for it and he can't do that when each time he thinks about her hurts so much.

“Boy-”

“You don’t understand. All my life Archie had everything: the house, the stable family, the friends, and he had the girl for more than a decade. How can I compete with that? How much of our relationship was spent with her pining after him? Who's to say she won't do it again?” He turns to look at his dad as he finishes, and FP lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Boy, that girl stood by you when everyone else turned your back after I went to jail. She stood by you when you joined the Serpents, she even joined them herself.”

“Dad-” he tries to interrupt but FP just shakes his head.

“No, you’re going to let me finish. Whenever you had stuff going on at Stonewall and couldn’t make it here for the weekend, it was two whole days of watching her mope around the house. And when we told her you weren’t coming for Thanksgiving, the girl was broken. And now, after we told her you were coming down for Christmas, she told Alice she wasn’t sure she could make it, that she would try, but we all know she won’t because she doesn’t know if you want to see her after you bailed last month.”

“Dad,” he says, and this time it comes out broken, the thought of her spending Christmas alone because she thinks he doesn’t want to see her, because she thinks he can resent her that much, making his eyes sting.

His dad must see the change in him, and this time, his voice is softer.

“Look, after you two broke up, she could’ve run off to Red. He was single. She was single, no matter how much you like to deny it. But she spent the last six months fighting for this relationship.

“Yes, she made a mistake, god knows I’ve made plenty of them myself but you still forgave me. You can’t control what she’s gonna do next, but sometimes you gotta take the risk. You did it for me. Alice did it for me. And look at us now. And she did it for you countless times when you were being pulled by the Serpents and she never turned her back on you, not once. If you don’t wanna lose her, it's your turn to do it.” His dad squeezes his shoulder one last time before going back inside.

  
  
  
  


“Do you want any help?” he asks, as he approaches the kitchen. She doesn’t turn around, but nods towards the plates neatly stacked on the counter.

“You can set the table.”

They work quietly, the only sound is her knife as she chops the vegetables and the silverware clinking with each other. He finishes quickly, and takes a deep breath as he sits on the counter.

“Alice. Do you- do you ever wish you and dad didn’t waste so much time?” He rubs his neck nervously, and watches as she drops the knife, turning around to meet his eyes.

“It’s hard to answer. Even after everything that happened, a part of me doesn’t regret getting married to Hal, because he gave some of the best things in my life and I don’t regret having Polly or Betty, at all. But sometimes I do wonder. The thing is that your father was in a really dark place after high school ended. He got tangled up with the Serpents and then there were the arrests, the drinking, you know.

“Your dad and I aren’t you and Betty. Even back in high school, our relationship was troubled to say the least. He needed to pull himself together before we could take a chance. You and Betty have something together that your father and I never had. When she told me about what happened with Archie- I had never seen her cry so much. But she is seeing a therapist now. She is really trying, Jughead. And that’s the difference between us and you guys. When we were younger, neither one of us fought hard enough. Neither one of us was willing to make the effort. But you guys are.

“You need to ask yourself what is more important to you - never getting hurt again, and risk living your life wondering what could have been, or taking the risk now and possibly be rewarded with the most amazing payoff. You need to ask yourself if your relationship is worth saving. I know you don’t want to get hurt again and I know it might be hard to forgive her now, but believe me, the payoff is _so_ worth it,” she says and he watches as she meets his dad’s eyes over his shoulder. The smile they give each other tells him everything he needs to know.

“Alice, Betty is not coming home for Christmas, is she?”

She shakes her head and half an hour later he is in his car, trying to find the quickest way to New Haven.

  
  
  
  


He gets lost twice in the dorms, but he shows a guy the scrap of paper where Alice wrote where Betty’s dorm is and he gives him the directions. He walks and suddenly, he is right in front of her door and it all becomes way too real for him. He fights the urge to flee, and takes a deep breath letting Alice’s words ring over and over in his head.

_She is really trying, Jughead._

He knocks on the door.

She opens.

He can’t breath.

  
  
  
  


“Jug,” she says, breaking the silence, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

She looks different. Her hair is longer, framing her face, free of its ponytail. He looks down at her Christmas sweater, green, with a big Rudolph on the front wrapped around in christmas lights that he is pretty surelight up if he finds the right switch, knowing that if it was any other situation he would probably be laughing at it. But it is not a normal situation, so he clears his throat, as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

And then he notices it, the guy behind her. Somehow, in all the scenarios he imagined, he never thought about the one where she actually had a boyfriend. He should have guessed though, and he can’t really blame the guy, nor any of those who he is suree followed her around. She is gorgeous.

And he is tall, broad-shouldered and has dark hair like him, kind of reminding him of Reggie, and then he can’t breathe for a completely different reason.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had company. Sorry, my mistake,” he says, already turning away. He wants to go back to the truck and drive away so he can let it all out when he is alone. Because he can't do that here, not when she is right behind him with another guy.

“Uh, what? No- No, no, no! Jug.”

He hears her footsteps behind him, probably trying to catch up, but he doesn’t stop. He feels it then, the hand on his arm turning him around, and he curses himself for never taking her up on her offer when she asked him for company during her early morning workouts.

“His name is Nick.”

It feels like he has been burnt.

“Well thanks for the info.”

“No, you’re not getting it. He’s Sabrina’s boyfriend. You know, my roommate.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she says, and quickly looks down. “They are leaving later, but-” she stops herself, but he motions for her to continue. “Do you want to get something to eat? Just the two of us?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.”

  
  
  
  


They walk alongside each other, and he tries to keep his breathing normal each time their hands brush together. They were together for more than two years, he has had sex with her for god's sakes, yet his heart still jumps each time his pinky almost intertwines with hers. None of them says a thing until the diner comes into view.

“I spent most of these last months here. It reminds me a lot of Pop’s,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, a tell tale sign that she's nervous. Despite everything, he hates himself for making her feel that way.

(Yet, a small smile also graces his lips at the thought that she too tried to find her own Pop’s.)

They open the door and the sound of the bell is a little different from Pop’s and the red booths are swapped by blue ones, but it has the same homey feel to it.

“So, uh, how are things at Columbia?”

“Good. Great, actually.”

“That’s good.”

“And Yale?”

“It’s good, yeah.”

“So, this is weird.”

“Why did you do it?” He didn't plan on asking her, but the question was always in the tip of his tongue, and now that he is right in front of her, it’s like all logic just flew right out of the window, and his brain can’t catch up with his mouth.

“Jughead,” she tries to interrupt.

“It's just- Every day for these last few months I've been racking my brain to just find one reason why.”

“Jug-” she tries again, but the words keep flowing, and this time he doesn’t stop himself.

“Was it because I didn’t do my assignments so you decided to hurt me in the worst way you could find? Fuck, Betty, I need a reason.”

“I- I don't.” Her eyes are glassy now, and her voice is shaky and a part of him wants to stop himself, but he needs to know.

“C'mon Betty, I just need a reason,” he presses, tapping his fingers on the table. “What was so worth it that you had to wreck everything we built for the last three years?”

“I don't know!” she whispers-shouts, getting an odd look from the waitress passing by their table.

“I know what I did. Fuck, I know it. But I can’t give you a good answer, because I don’t even know why. Maybe it was a lapse of sanity, or that it was because you weren’t opening up to me, after all the stress we went through with Stonewall. Maybe it was the song we were singing or the fact they both you and me and Archie and Veronica had just fought. Or because my crush on him represents everything before our sophomore year, before everything got so messed up with our families. But the truth is-” Her voice cracks, and she stops talking before taking a deep breath.

“I don't know. Maybe it was all the above or maybe it was none. Because even I can’t think of anything that was worth throwing what we had away. All I know is that it was a mistake, a stupid stupid stupid mistake, and I screwed up the best thing in my life and I wish I could undo it, but I can’t, and it hurts so much.” She stops rambling and catches her breath, hastily wiping the tears staining her cheeks.

“Do you- do you think you can ever forgive me?” she asks quietly, looking down at her lap, almost as she is afraid to meet his eyes.

“I want to work things out, I want it Betty. But I don’t think I can go through this again,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

“I need to know what you want. If this was closure, or if this could be something more- I need to know, because I don’t think I can handle getting my hopes up just to lose you again.”

“It’s not just for closure,” he says immediately, and he can almost see the relief that washes over her at his words.

“Then, please, just tell me what I need to do to fix it.”

“I mean, they’re not as good as Pop’s, but- Maybe we could finish our milkshakes and you could tell me about Yale.”

“That would be nice,” she smiles, reaching for his hand, this time, he lets her.

  
  
  
  


This part has always come easily to them, ever since they were kids. It reminds him of all the afternoon they spent together at Pop’s, but instead of the tight feeling he used to get that left him unsettled whenever he thought about it during these last few months, he feels warmth blooming on his chest. There is a bit of cream on her nose and he thinks this is the part he has missed the most.

  
  
  


“So, living with Veronica?” she says, popping another one of his fries in her mouth. He slaps the hand from his plate and she smiles at him in response.

“Challenging to say the least,” he chuckles. “No, but really, it’s nice to have a friend like her.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, and there is a longing look on her face, it looks almost like she is about to cry, but she quickly blinks it away.

“How are you two?” he asks, instead.

“We hang out sometimes. It’s- It’s nice. It’s not the same, but I think we’ll get there, eventually.”

“She really loves you, you know?”

“I really love her too.”

  
  
  
  


“Your hair. It looks good like this. It’s longer now,” he points out, and watches her as she tugs on the ends of it. It looks soft.

“Yeah, I finally got rid of that damn ponytail,” she replied with a chuckle.

“Hey, I liked your ponytail,” he says and she fondly shakes her heat at him. He looks down and clears his throat. “But yeah, it kind of fits you better this way.”

“I felt like I needed a change.”

She holds his gaze and he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I get it.” Because he does, he really does.

  
  
  
  


“So, I’m seeing a therapist now.”

He doesn't tell her that Alice already told him. He swallows and nods.

(Something he can’t pinpoint, maybe the though of the letter buried in his suitcase, stops him before he tells her he is seeing one too.)

“Yeah?”

“It’s good. It’s great actually. I really really needed it,” she says with a shy smile. “Although I think she was trying really hard not to laugh at some of the things I was saying. I mean, Gargoyle kings and drug lord parents? Seriously, it’s a wonder how we weren’t all committed to an asylum,” she adds with a chuckle.

_After everything we’ve been through, it’s a miracle we’re all remotely normal._

“I’m proud of you, you know that right?” he says, rubbing the back of her hand.

She is silent for a moment, and then looks directly into his eyes, almost as if she is searching for something. She seems to find it and eventually nods, squeezing his fingers.

  
  
  
  


“I’m telling you, it’s like Ethel 2.0, it’s creeping me out,” he insists, the memory of the girl next to him in his photography class forever burned into his mind.

“Jug, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Believe me, Betts. It’s disturbing.”

He shudders and she laughs and he thinks about how much he missed that sound.

  
  
  
  


“So, yale?” he asks. They are now walking around campus, splitting a pack of Red Vines between the two.

“It’s good, my classes are great, I have good teachers, so, yeah,” she says, and he stops, grabbing her hand to pull her back.

“Okay, that may work on a lot of people but it doesn’t work on me. Now, let me ask you again - how is Yale?”

He can see her inner struggle, but stays quiet, giving her the time she needs. He watches her as she shrugs and wraps her arms around herself and eventually looks up to meet his eyes again.

“I don’t know. Lonely, I guess,” she says, quickly looking away. “This is definitely not like Riverdale. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Sabrina is great and Nick is nice too, but I usually make myself scarce whenever he comes over. They are constantly all over each other.”

“Well, we would know something about that though, wouldn’t we?” He says, trying to lighten the mood, but the words come out huskier than intended. He looks at her, holding her gaze, and is sure her dark eyes mirror his own.

  
  
  
  


Scratch that. _This_ is the part he missed the most, he thinks, hearing her moan as he kisses a path down her neck and pushes his hips into her.

  
  
  
  


He is not sure who kissed who. He definitely didn’t plan on kissing her, but the moment those words were out of his mouth, coupled with the months spent away from one another, it was like they were drawn to each other before they could realize what was happening.

He wants to take his time, to worship her, to do everything he has been dreaming about for the last few months, but couldn’t do. He tells her that, yet when she shakes her head and reaches for his belt buckle, looking at him with eyes that clearly say _I need you ((now))_ , he can’t find it in himself to deny her.

(He needs her too.

Badly.)

It’s just like he remembers, and, at the same time, not at all. Because no matter how many times they did this dance over the past three years, no memory in his head could ever compare to the feeling of her lips on his, their skin pressed together and the blinding light behind his eyes as he loses himself in her.

He pulls her closer and closer and then, for the first time in so long, everything around him fades away, but instead of falling, he flies.

  
  
  
  


She rests her arm over his stomach and lays her head on his chest, his breathing slowing down until it matches hers. Her bed is small, but he doesn't mind the excuse to stay pressed up against her.

“You had no idea how much I missed that,” he says, brushing his fingertips up and down her arm, almost like he needed that physical reminder that this was real, that he wasn't going to wake up once again to an empty bed, making her shiver.

“Really? I think I have a clue,” she says with a giggle, running her hand up his tight, higher and higher.

“I still need a minute. You know I’m not just a piece of meat.”

“But you’re so pretty.” She pouts and he slaps her hand away, making her laugh again. It’s easy, he thinks, being here with her like this.

They stay silent for a moment, and he tries to bask in the afterglow of the last hour, but when he looks at her, he can almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“Betts, I can hear you thinking. What is it?” She stays silent, biting her bottom lip, and he is about to speak up again when she clears her throat, tucking her head under his chin to hide her face.

“I’m going to ask a question and I want you to answer it honestly. I don’t blame you if it’s true, but just tell me. Please.” Her voice is small when she talks and he just furrows his eyebrows, motioning for her to continue. “Was there any other girl? In New York? Even if it was like a one night stand or something. Was there?”

_Wait, what?_

“What? Of course not,” he says. She is still hiding her face on the crook of his neck, so he detangles themselves just enough so he can look at her face. “There wasn’t another girl Betty. Nor a guy for that matter.”

“Good.”

But what she said makes him think of Nick again, and the fact that he is sure he isn't the only guy who noticed how beautiful she is, and before he loses his nerve, he forces the question out too.

“What about you?” he asks, cursing his voice at how strained it comes out.

“Jug, I couldn’t even think about or look at another guy, let alone, do anything. So, no,” she says, and he smiles at her answer.

“I mean, there was this girl that asked me out on a date," he points out after a beat of silence.

“Really?” She asks, and he looks at her in mock outrage, before she rolls her eyes. “I mean, of course there was. Did you- did you go?”

He takes a deep breath, mulling over what he is about to say. He looks down and toys with the blanket covering them, not meeting her eyes when he speaks.

“I told her I had a girlfriend,” he says quietly. He can feel the heat of her stare, but can’t seem to meet her eyes until she brings a hand up to his face.

“Is that true? Do you?” she asks, and he can hear the hope and the fear in her voice, so he pulls her closer to him.

“I want to.” His nerves fading away quickly at the smile that spreads across her face and he finds himself smiling too, even before he hears her voice again.

“So do I.”

“You want to have a girlfriend Betty? Is there something you’re not telling me besides your kiss with Veronica?” he teases.

“Shut up,” she laughs, but it quickly dies down when they lock eyes. “So.”

“So.”

“We try again?” she asks.

“Yes, we try again,” he nods, and brings her lips to his once more.

He’s home.

_So you were never a saint  
And I've loved in shades of wrong  
We learn to live with the pain  
Mosaic broken hearts  
But this love is brave and wild_

**Author's Note:**

> If you finished this, thank you so so much for reading! I may do a part 2, but who knows? Comments and kudos are appreciated if you feel like it.  
> Hope you have a great day <3


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